The Deserter's Just Deserts
by LadyBranwyn
Summary: When a deserter from the army of Rohan is captured in Ithilien, Faramir finds that his wife is strangely troubled by the Rider's plight.
1. Chapter 1

_Written for the "Two Sides to Everything Challenge" at the lotr_community on Livejournal. Was Eowyn a deserter for not remaining with her people in Dunharrow?_

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"That is the custom in Rohan?" Faramir tried to keep the disgust from his voice.

"For certain misdeeds, our law allows it," Eowyn replied, her breath a stream of frozen smoke. Framed by a hood of white foxskins, her face was bright pink from the cold. "Our lands are sparsely settled, and in times of peace, we keep only a small standing army. How else can an outlaw be brought to justice?"

"It is barbaric and unworthy of your people," he wanted to say but wisely bit back his words. It was easy for him to forget that she was not a woman of Gondor. Even after a year of marriage, he was still sometimes surprised by the things she did and said.

They hurried across the courtyard, past the rough wooden buildings that rose on ancient foundations. This was the northernmost outpost of Ithilien, a desolate place far from their home in Emyn Arnen. Someday, he would see the palisades rebuilt in white stone, but for now the sturdy beams of oak would have to suffice to keep out the wind and any marauders. It was only the second winter since the shadow had been lifted, and servants of the Enemy still haunted Ithilien, lingering in caves and hidden valleys.

A sentry saluted them as they entered the keep. The bounty hunter and his quarry were waiting for them in the guardroom. A patrol had found them near the northern border and, unsure what to do with them, had brought the pair back to the outpost. Faramir had been loath to ask his young wife to question these rough men, but no one else in the garrison had her command of the language of Rohan.

Bowing low, the hunter greeted them haltingly in the Common Speech. His name was Aelfric son of Aelhere, and he hailed from the West-march near the Isen. Though he carried the arms and armor of a horse lord, his fair hair was cropped short after the manner of Gondor and he had the close, wary movements of a ranger. He was not ill-favored, despite the scars and lines on his face. His prisoner did not look up from where he sat at one of the long tables. His hair, almost as pale as Eowyn's, fell in unkempt braids down his back. He was garbed in a strange assortment of clothing—a rough Orc cloak, the green tunic and leggings of a Rider, and an ornate pair of Haradric boots. Though he showed no signs of mistreatment, his face was thin and white, and his shoulders were bowed with weariness. His hands rested on the table, and he was staring at the ropes around his wrists.

Faramir nodded toward the prisoner and asked, "What is his name, and what wrong has he done?"

When the bounty hunter stared at him in confusion, Eowyn stepped forward to translate, repeating the question and relaying the answer. "He says that this man is called Wulf son of Wulstan," she told Faramir, "He abandoned his post and fled Helm's Deep even before the battle was joined."

"How does he know that is true?" Faramir's eyes were fixed on the prisoner as he spoke.

Again Eowyn spoke to the bounty hunter. He seemed surprised by the question. "He says that he was there when it happened. This Wulf struck down a sentry as he made his escape."

"Was the sentry slain or hurt?"

Eowyn translated the question then replied, "No, he was not."

"Was Wulf known as a coward before he fled from Helm's Deep?"

"He says that he never heard it, though the deserter showed his true mettle when he ran and left the folk he had sworn to protect."

Eowyn turned to the prisoner. "Does he speak the truth? Did you run from the battle?" she asked in the Common Speech. When there was no reply, she repeated the question in the language of Rohan. Still staring at his bound hands, the man answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"He does not deny it," she said.

"Ask Aelfric where he captured him." It little pleased Faramir to think that this bounty hunter was stalking on his lands.

"He says that about a week ago he found the deserter north of here, in the fens of the Entwash. He did not mean to stray so far south as to enter Ithilien, but there are few landmarks to follow. If the lord steward allows it, he means to journey to Edoras."

"That is a long ride even in the summer, and the river crossing will be made more perilous by the winter rains." Faramir doubted that the prisoner, who looked exhausted and half-starved, would survive such a journey. _It is not my place to interfere with the justice of Rohan,_ he reminded himself. "Tell him that we can speak of these matters later. Sergeant Angrim will show him the way to his lodgings, and no doubt he wishes to see where his horses have been stabled."

"He asks where the deserter will be held."

"Tell him that my soldiers will guard the prisoner until his return."

After this dismissal, the bounty hunter bowed then left with the sergeant.

"The fault lies with the pupil and not the teacher, but I could scarcely follow a word of what was said," Faramir told her. Unlike Boromir, he had never learned the language of Rohan, so he had asked his wife to teach him.

"It is no fault of the pupil. Folk in the West-march have their own manner of speech, perhaps because they live so close to Dunland. It is strange even to the rest of our people, and I am teaching you the language as spoken in the east."

"What happens once the bounty hunter reaches Edoras?" Faramir asked, though he could easily guess.

"Aelfric will be paid according to our laws, and Wulf son of Wulstan will be punished for the crime of desertion. The penalty is death or lesser punishment as the judges deem fit, though I doubt they will show mercy since he fled in time of war and did not return willingly."

"What if he had been killed instead of taken prisoner?"

"The price is still paid if the slayer can show convincing proof that the outlaw is dead."

Now that the bounty hunter had left, Faramir asked her to question the prisoner again. "Ask him if he is guilty of this misdeed. Tell him that he must not be afraid to speak the truth. He is in Gondor and subject to our laws, and I am a thane of Elessar King."

Eowyn seated herself across from the prisoner. She leaned forward as she spoke, trying to watch his face. Again, he replied without looking up.

She shook her head. "He says it is true that he fled from his post in the Hornburg and tried to hide in the fenlands."

"How did he stay alive for over a year alone in the wild?" It was no mean feat to survive for so long without the aid of comrades or a steady source of supplies.

Eowyn repeated the question in the language of Rohan. "He says that he lived like a bear—sleeping in a cave and fishing in streams—and like a bear, he often went hungry in the winter. He was not the only outlaw in the fens—there were stragglers from the armies of Mordor, and when he had the chance, he killed these others and took their food and gear."

"How many did he slay?" Faramir asked.

"He did not keep a tally, but he killed perhaps a score, both orcs and Men."

"That explains the outlandish clothing, but his story makes little sense. How could he fight the Enemy alone and in the open if he dared not face them from behind the walls of the Hornburg?"

Eowyn leaned forward again and spoke to the deserter. This time he looked up when he replied, gazing right into Faramir's eyes. "He says that he will tell you, though he doubts you will understand. He says he could not help what he did. He felt as if the fortress were a trap closing about him. Or the stone roof of a barrow pressing down on his face." The prisoner spoke on in a low but urgent voice. Eowyn repeated his words, a look of horror on her face. "His kindred live on small farmsteads in the hills, and he'd never been surrounded by the weight of such great walls. They cut off the view of the open sky and fields, stifled the wind and light. He felt as if the stones were bearing down on his breast, and he must escape them or die from want of air." The last few words seemed to catch in her throat.

_The walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel a wild thing in, _Aragorn had said_._ And then she had fled, deserting her people. He considered for a long moment before he spoke. "There were brave rangers who quailed at staying in the cave of Henneth Annun. A dread of close places is not uncommon, and in this man's case, it was coupled with the dread of the oncoming battle. He was no more to blame for his fear than if the Black Shadow had touched him. And he may have fled one duty, but he took on another when he killed the marauders. How many rangers were saved from ambush and death by his deeds?"

"Yet he broke his oath of fealty and abandoned our folk when they needed him." Her voice trembled. "Can the end result outweigh the beginning misdeed?"

"I too have been called faithless, Eowyn. I knew full well that Denethor would want me to bear the Ring to Minas Tirith, yet I let Frodo and Samwise continue on their quest. Do you doubt that the end result outweighed my disobedience to my father and lord?"

"I do not doubt it," she said, her eyes bright with tears. With a sudden scowl, she added, "Yet any who call you faithless will have to deal with me."

"And may the Valar help them." Faramir smiled. "Do not fear, Eowyn-I will try to see that justice is tempered with mercy. This man is not fit to travel and must stay in Ithilien until he recovers his strength. In the meantime, I will petition Eomer for a lesser punishment."

"I doubt that my brother will spare him when so many were slain at Helm's Deep. He still grieves for the Riders who were lost in the War."

"Elessar King forgave the men who were overcome with fear before the Black Gate. He deemed that they were not made to face that terror. "

"My brother is kind by nature, but he does not share Lord Aragorn's gift for reading the hearts of men. And even if he shows mercy, what sort of life will await this Rider? All know him for a deserter and will greet him with harsh words and even blows." Her voice dropped as she spoke. "None dare harm the King's sister, but he is simply a Rider of the lowest rank."

"I will do what I can," he told her, yet he saw by her face that this promise was not enough. It grieved him to see her so troubled, but this matter was out of his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

After the evening meal, they sat together in the guest quarters of the garrison. Faramir was writing a letter to Eomer, counseling mercy for Wulf son of Wulstan. The bounty hunter would serve as a messenger and bear it to Edoras. While he worked on the letter, Eowyn studied the ledgers for the garrison storerooms. Faramir was grateful for her help with this task. After years of managing the great household at Edoras, she was well-trained in the duties of a steward and quickly saw any signs of waste or misuse. But her thoughts soon wandered from the columns of numbers, for she turned the pages more and more slowly until she had stopped and was staring into the fire. She put aside the books and took up her spinning. Back and forth she walked, drawing out the thread from a handful of fleece then winding it back on the spindle. But her mind was not on her work, for the thread kept breaking and dropping the spindle to the floor with a thud. Muttering under her breath, she put her handiwork away.

When Faramir had finished the letter, he sealed it, stamping his ring in the melted wax. To protect it during the long journey, he stowed it in a small box which he put inside a messenger's satchel. With Faramir's letter as proof, the bounty hunter could collect his fee when he reached the courts of Edoras. They had spoken with Aelric, and he had seemed satisfied with this plan for now he could travel unburdened by a prisoner. Pleased with his work, Faramir put the satchel by the door and went to sit beside Eowyn.

She was combing her hair, and though she did this every night, he never tired of watching her. She had loosed the braids, shaking out her hair until it fell down her back like a silken veil, and now she was running a comb along its length. Her hair was a wonder-soft and bright, pale as bleached flax.

"You are restless, Eowyn," he said as he watched her. "You flit from one thing to another like a swallow."

She handed him the comb to hold while she plaited her hair. "I take things too much to heart. I must try to share your faith that things will work out for the best." With the ease of long practice, she wove her hair into two long plaits. She took back the comb and smoothed the loose ends. "Did you notice the color of that Rider's hair?" she said without looking up. "'Tis almost as pale as mine. It is rare for one of our folk to stay so fair-haired past childhood." Then she settled herself against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He drew an arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

Despite her assurances, she still seemed ill at ease, and she twitched and turned beside him in bed until he finally fell asleep. When he woke in the morning, she brought him freshly baked bread and a pot of tea. She was already dressed for the day. Waking early, she had decided to offer a hand to the cooks, so her hair was bound up in a long white cloth. It gave her a matronly look that Faramir thought ill-suited his brave, young wife.

His morning was spent in council with the officers of the garrison. There was much to discuss for he rarely visited this northern outpost. At the end of the meeting, he summoned Aelfric son of Aelhere to give him the message for Eomer. He had brought the satchel to the meeting, but they needed Eowyn to translate so he sent the sergeant to find her. She was in the kitchen plucking chickens, and as she hurried in, she wiped her hands on an apron streaked with blood.

Sergeant Angrim handed the satchel to the bounty hunter. Faramir turned to Eowyn. "Tell him that the satchel holds the letter to Eomer King. As we agreed, Wulf son of Wulstan will remain in Ithilien awaiting the King's judgment."

His wife repeated this speech in the language of Rohan. To Faramir's astonishment, the Rider gave him a horrified look then spat out an angry reply.

"What is he saying, Eowyn? We spoke of this yesterday, so he should not be surprised."

"He's worried about his fee. There is no law for a case such as this."

Faramir tried to hide his annoyance at the man's greed. "Tell him that if Rohan refuses his claim, the Steward of Gondor will pay the fee. All these men present will bear witness. I will put it in writing if necessary."

Eowyn spoke with the bounty hunter. He shook his head, glancing at Faramir's men with an uneasy, almost fearful look. "He says that the lord's word will suffice."

"Good. Tell him that I will see that he has fresh provisions and grain for his horses."

"He thanks the lord steward and will leave for Edoras as soon as the packs are ready."

Faramir nodded. "Wish him fair journey and safe return."

True to his word, Aelfric son of Aelhere left in the early afternoon. He rode at fast trot from the garrison gate, leading his second, now riderless horse. Faramir was surprised that the bounty hunter did not wish to rest his mounts for another day, but the man had a long journey before him and the longest journey is the one never started. The rest of Faramir's day was taken up with the business of the garrison, and he did not see his wife again until it was nearly midnight. She had sent her women to bed and waited for him alone. She had taken off the bloody apron but still wore the long veil wrapped around her hair.

"You have the look of an ancient dame like Ioreth," he teased her as he unfastened his cloak and pulled off his boots.

"I need to tell you something, Faramir," she said, and the tone of her voice made him stop in his tracks. With a sharp tug of her hand, the coiled veil fell away. Her beautiful hair had been shorn above her shoulders.

"Eowyn! What happened to your hair!" He thought with horror of a fire in the kitchen or some mishap in the stable. Then suddenly he guessed the truth. "What did you tell that Rider, Eowyn? Aelfric seemed troubled by what you said, though I could not understand why."

Her face reddened, but she met his gaze without flinching. "I told him that you had changed your mind, as highborn men are wont to do. Since the evidence of guilt was so clear, you had ordered such punishment as the laws of the Mark demanded. You acted within your rights as the lord of this land. The proof he needed to collect his fee was in the box in the satchel—plaits cut from the deserter's head. Since he already had the deserter's sword, these tokens would prove that justice had been done."

"And why would anyone believe that the man had been punished? That proves that his hair was cut off, nothing more."

"That is true, so to make the tokens more convincing, I hacked off my plaits with an axe. Then I smeared them with chicken blood and dragged them through the barnyard."

"Small wonder that Aelfric looked at me as if I were the Dark Lord himself," he told her. "And though I detest the custom of paying bounties, he was trying to uphold the law of your people." Faramir wasn't sure which made him angrier—that she'd lied to the Rider or to him. He wondered if other men had such trouble with their wives, or was it only the men who were wed to shieldmaidens of the North?

"I did not say the deserter was slain. I said that you ordered punishment according to our law. And some folk would say that the plaits were cut from the head of a deserter."

Shaking his head in disbelief, he said. "You do great violence to the truth. You could find a place in the courts of law or on the Council of Gondor. But Eomer will be furious when he learns that I beheaded one of his Riders."

"The man had a price on his head. His life was forfeit to whoever found him. And Eomer holds you in high regard and trusts your judgment as much as his own. He also may be relieved to be spared a difficult choice. Besides, you can always tell him the truth and cast the blame on me."

"And what if some day this dead man turns up alive?"

"Gondor is a vast realm and can easily hide one Rider."

Once he looked past his own sense of outrage, what she said made a good deal of sense. He even had to admit that justice had been served by this deceit. Nothing would be gained by the hapless Wulf's death, and the man had already endured a grueling exile. "He might find a home in Eriador, It is still sparsely settled, and some of the lands are not unlike Rohan. We can give our plans more thought in the morning."

"A new home and a new beginning," Eowyn said solemnly, the words like a pledge.

"A new home and a new beginning," Faramir replied, taking her hand in his own. He hoped that his wife would never cease to surprise him.


End file.
